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<title>You'll Hate Yourself in the Morning by theebolaqueen</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29145645">You'll Hate Yourself in the Morning</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/theebolaqueen/pseuds/theebolaqueen'>theebolaqueen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Discovery of Witches (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vampire Bites, Vampire Sex, Vampires</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:35:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,756</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29145645</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/theebolaqueen/pseuds/theebolaqueen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during the School of Night, Matthew Clairmont is suffering, but he still can't keep his hands off his wife.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Diana Bishop/Matthew Clairmont</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>80</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>You'll Hate Yourself in the Morning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>    When he stumbled in that night, banging the door too loud against the wall, I wasn’t surprised. He saw me perched on the center of the staircase and his eyes narrowed.<br/>    “You’ve been with Kit,” I said. It wasn’t a question. My husband was drowning and in those depths he’d been drawn further and further into Kit’s darkness.<br/>    “Yes,” he lifted his chin. His pupils were so dilated his green eyes looked black.<br/>    “Is every human in London full of opiates? Or just the ones you hunt?” I asked mildly.<br/>    “Not every human,” he shrugged, “but many of them.” He threw the door shut behind him in one smooth movement.<br/>    “I’m glad you’re home. I miss you.” I was always alone now. I had no friends in this time and place, and our servants gave me wide berth, afraid to say the wrong thing or upset me somehow. It stung that Matthew would rather spend time with his friends than me, but I hoped that was what he needed.<br/>    His already black eyes darkened, and he stalked towards me with a fluid kind of swagger. I didn’t move from my position on the stairs. If he wanted a hunt, he would have to find different prey tonight. I was not going to run from him.<br/>    “You’re lonely, <em>mon coeur,</em>” he purred and rose up the stairs towards me.<br/>    My eyes flashed and I felt the blue-static of electricity at me fingertips. “My husband leaves me to fend for myself in this strange land.”<br/>    There wasn’t a hint of guilt or shame in his expression. He was too far gone. Instead, he placed his boot on the tread where I sat. He pressed the soft leather into my body, pinning me against the wall.<br/>    “You’ll hate yourself in the morning,” I warned him.<br/>    “Yes,” he agreed and placed both his hands on the wall above my head. With the blinding speed of a vampire, he forced my thighs apart and hiked my skirts up to my waist with the toe of his boot.<br/>    I would not give him the satisfaction of looking away.<br/>    He pressed his boot gently between my legs. The worn leather clung to his muscled calf and the smell mixed with his scent of cinnamon and clove. I inhaled deeply but held very still. Matthew had explained to me to predatory instincts of vampires. There had been times when we’d argued and he’d instructed me to play dead. When he got this way, he wanted his prey to run, to scream, to fight back. He wanted to hunt me now.<br/>    He held his boot against me for a moment, daring me to protest, and then began to rub the leather slowly up and down. He caressed the growing warmth between my thighs and a mocking smile played on his lips.<br/>    “This is hardly the place,” I met his gaze evenly, proud of steadiness in my voice. “The servants could walk in any moment.”<br/>    “Then you better not wake them.” He flashed a dazzling smile and massaged his boot against me in an even rocking rhythm.<br/>    I locked my muscles down and focused on my breathing. I would give him nothing. He felt the challenge in my stillness and leaned forward, pressing more of the leather against me and picking up his tempo.<br/>    I resisted the urge to cling to him, to hold myself against his leather clad calf and grind myself atop the boot that now held me down. But he knew my body as well as I did, perhaps better, and soon the pleasure building in my core was too much.<br/>    A muscle in my thigh twitched, and my breathing hitched once as he edged me closer. I refused to look away from him, to let my eyes roll back into my head and my eyelids flutter closed.<br/>    The lapse in my control pleased him and he redoubled his efforts, forcing me closer and closer to a climax. I fought the waves of sensation as best I could, but it was a battle he knew I would lose. Only a moment later, my elbows buckled beneath me and I lay back on the steps. My back arched against the sharp stairs and I clutched fistfuls of my skirts to keep myself from reaching for him. The only sound that escaped my lips was a quiet, “oh,” as pleasure rocketed through my body and left me trembling.<br/>    I wasn’t playing dead very well.<br/>    His expression was triumphant, but I knew he wasn’t done with me yet.<br/>    Matthew sank to his knees in one fluid motion and gathered me up in his arms. He didn’t try to kiss me, he knew I would resist, but he wrapped his arms around my legs in vice grip.<br/>    “Not here,” I pleaded with him when I understood his plan.<br/>    “Hush, <em>ma lion</em>,” he crooned and kissed the bare skin above my knee.<br/>    “Someone will hear,” I protested.<br/>    “Then don’t make a sound, love.”<br/>    He trailed cold kisses up my thigh and I shivered helplessly. His lips came to rest at my labia, his cool breath tickling my skin.<br/>    “Matthew,” I begged when his tongue dipped between my lips. I pulled away from him in earnest, listening intently for the sounds of creaking floorboards or the click of a latch that would signal we were about to be caught. His hold on me was unbreakable though, and I couldn’t move one millimeter away. His fingers dug into the skin at the tops of my thighs and I cried out. Horrified, I shoved my hand to my mouth and bit down hard to keep silent.<br/>    His tongue danced and coaxed and teased. My hips angled towards him without my conscious decision to move. My head swam, filled with cinnamon and cloves. I was angry with him. He couldn’t fix that like this. I couldn’t let him.<br/>    I gasped as he slid a cold finger inside me, curling it upward and pressing it into my favorite spot. My body melted, unable to hold onto my tension or my anger. He stroked his finger against that place inside me as his tongue circled my clit with a feather-light touch.<br/>    I came undone. My body writhed in his grip, and I dug my teeth into my hand as I fought to stay silent. He slid a second finger inside me and the muscles in my stomach curled forward, pulling me into a sitting position. I grasped at his neck, his hair, trying to raise his face to mine so I could kiss him, so I could hold him, but it was like trying to move a statue. He eased a third finger inside me, ignoring the orgasm I’d just had. In a perverse way, he wasn’t concerned about my pleasure tonight.<br/>    I fell back on the steps again, twisting my fingers into my hair.<br/>    At first I was relieved when he pulled his mouth away, I didn’t know how much more of his attention I could take, but then I felt his teeth graze against the pulsing skin at my inner thigh.<br/>    I held my breath and froze, my exhausted body still trembling under his hands. I willed my heartbeat to slow, but it galloped ahead, only accelerated by my sudden fear. When Matthew had bitten me before, he used his vampire blood to numb my skin first so I wouldn’t feel the pain. Not so this time.<br/>    His teeth clamped down on my skin and I made a sound somewhere between a cry and a moan. The pain was sharp and intense, but his fingers continued to move gently inside of me. He drank from me, his lips pulling against my skin, and I closed my eyes. This was somehow more intimate than his tongue between my legs.<br/>    He drank, and his fingers curled and stroked and invited me to the edge once more.<br/>    The blood alone did not satisfy him, could not satisfy him. He had to possess me in every possible way. He’d warned me before about the possessiveness of vampires.<br/>    One moment I lay shaking on the stairs, tangled in his arms, and the next we were in upstairs in the master bedroom. He set me on my feet before the bed and placed my hands deliberately on the wooden canopy bed post.<br/>   “Hold very still,” he murmured in my ear. It was a command.<br/>    I didn’t dare move or turn to see what he was doing. It took what little strength I had to hold myself upright while my knees shook.<br/>    For a moment there was no sound; I wondered if he had left the room, but then his fingers were at my back.<br/>    Matthew didn’t bother with the various ties and layers of my outfit. I heard the fabric rip under his hands. I whirled on him, shocked that he would destroy the clothes it had taken Francois so long to sew by hand, but I didn’t make it a full 180 degrees.<br/>    He shoved me back to the bed post, pressing the full length of his body against mine. He took my hands one by one and placed them back on the wood, holding them in place with just one of his.<br/>    “You will listen to me when I tell you what to do,” he hissed in my ear. More ripping fabric and the rest of my clothes fell to the floor between us.<br/>    “I will not,” I said, with all the force I could muster.<br/>    “You are mine. You belong to me.” He forced my legs apart with his knee and pushed himself inside me before I could protest again.<br/>    I threw my head back, resting it on his shoulder.<br/>    “Who has your heart, Diana?” he growled in my ear.<br/>    I couldn’t answer. His free hand slid between my legs, driving me towards the edge of sanity.<br/>    “Tell me,” he roared, grinding his body against mine.<br/>    “You know the answer,” I whispered, breathless. “You have my heart. Only…forever…you…oh!”<br/>    He shuddered and his slender hands clutched at my skin. I was sure they would leave bruises. At least, I hoped so. Tomorrow I would be furious with Matthew. Tomorrow I would condemn this behavior and give him a piece of my mind. Tomorrow. But tonight I relaxed into his arms and let him hold me. Tonight, it didn’t matter that so many things had gone wrong. Tonight, he tucked me into bed and slid under the blankets beside me. My anger could wait.</p>
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